Es ist in alten Mähren wunders viel geseit,
Von Heleden lobebären, von grosser Arebeit,
which is supposed to date from about 1150; or in Dante's terza rima, of about 1300, as
Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita.
But blank verse is after all the metre par excellence of the Renaissance, that is of the revival of Greek influence, and Goethe chose it for this reason.
Now the Watchman Lynceus ('the keen-eyed,' as the word means—and you perhaps remember him as the watchman of the Argonauts on the good ship Argo) represents here the early pre-Renaissance poets of Italy and Provence and Germany—the Troubadours and Trouvères and Minnesinger, who were so surprised and dazzled by the sudden sunrise of the Renaissance with its wonderful new apparition of Greek art that they (as Lynceus in Faust) failed to announce its coming; and therefore Lynceus here speaks in a kind of early Troubadour metre, with rime. In classical poetry there is no rime. They did not like it; they even ridiculed it. For instance Cicero, the great orator, once tried to write poetry, and produced a line that said 'O fortunate Rome, when I was consul!' This was not only conceited of him but unfortunately the line contained a rime and this rime brought down an avalanche of ridicule on his head. 'O fortunatam natam me consule Romam' was this unfortunate line. Rime was probably first adopted by the monks in their medieval Latin hymns and was used by the Troubadours and early Italian poets when they began to write in the vulgar tongue. Dante uses it in his canzoni and sonnets and ballads, as well of course as in his great poem. So it is quite right to make Lynceus speak in rime. Helen of course has never heard rime before, and she turns to Faust and asks him what it is that sounds so strange and beautiful in this song of Lynceus; and she wants to know how she too can learn the art. So Faust tells her just to try and the rimes will come of their own accord. But I will quote the passage, for it is very pretty; and I will add a rough translation.
Doch wünscht' ich Unterricht warum die Rede
Des Manns mir seltsam klang, seltsam und freundlich—
Ein Ton scheint sich dem and'ren zu bequemen;
Und hat ein Wort zum Ohre sich gesellt,
Ein andres kommt, dem ersten liebzukosen....
So sage denn, wie spräch' ich auch so schön.
Faust. Das ist gar leicht—es muss vom Herzen geh'n.
Und wenn die Brust von Sehnsucht überfliesst
Man sieht sich um, und fragt....
Helen. wer mitgeniesst.
Faust. Nun schaut der Geist nicht vorwärts, nicht zurück—
Die Gegenwart allein ...
Helen. ist unser Glück—
Faust. Schatz ist sie, Hochgewinn, Besitz und Pfand.
Bestätigung, wer gibt sie?
Helen. Meine Hand.
(Helen. I fain would ask thee why the watchman's song
So strangely sounded—strange but beautiful.
Tones seemed to link themselves in harmony.
One word would come and nestle in the ear,
Then came another and caressed it there.
But say—how can I also learn the art?
Faust. Quite easily—one listens to one's heart,
And when its longings seem too great to bear
We look around for one ...
Helen. our joy to share.
Faust. Not past nor future loving hearts can bless,
The present—
Helen. is alone our happiness.
Faust. Before the prize of beauty, lo I stand,
But who assures the prize to me?
Helen. My hand!)
In the midst of this life of chivalrous love and romance Faust and Helen pass a period of ecstatic bliss. But, as Goethe himself found, such ecstasies are only a passing phase. The end comes inevitably and suddenly. A son is born to them, Euphorion by name (the name of the winged son of Helen and Achilles, according to one legend). He is no common human child. As a butterfly from its chrysalis he bursts at once into fully developed existence. He is of enchanting beauty but wild and capricious; spurning the common earth he climbs ever higher and higher amidst the mountain crags, singing ravishing melodies to his lyre. He reaches the topmost crag and casts himself into the air. A flame flickers upwards, and the body of a beautiful youth 'in which one seems to recognize a well-known form' falls to the ground, at the feet of Faust and Helen.
Euphorion symbolizes modern poetry, and the well-known form is that of Byron. For a moment the body lies there; it then dissolves in flame, which ascends to heaven, and a voice is heard calling on Helen to follow.
Yes, she must follow. As flame she must return to her home in the Empyrean—the home of ideal beauty and all other ideals. However much we strive to realize ideal beauty in art or in our lives, however we may hold it to our hearts as a warm and living possession, it always escapes our grasp. The short-lived winged child of poetic inspiration gleams but for a moment and disappears, as a flame flickering back to its native empyrean. And she, the mother, she too must follow, leaving us alone to face the stern reality of life and of death.
In the embrace of Faust Helen melts away into thin air, leaving in his arms her robe and veil. These change into a cloud, which envelops him, raises him into the air and bears him also away. The Phorkyad picks up Euphorion's lyre and mantle; he steps forward and addresses the audience, assuring them that in the leavings of poetic genius he has got enough to fit out any number of modern poets, and is open to a bargain. He then swells up to a gigantic height, removes the Gorgon-mask, and reveals himself as Mephistopheles once more the northern modern devil; and the curtain falls.