Thy works repeat their radiant story,
As bright as on Creation’s day.
Mephistopheles.
Sith thou, O Lord, approachest near,
And how we fare would’st fain have information,
And thou of old wert glad to see me here,
I stand to-day amid the courtly nation.
Pardon; no words of fine address I know,
Nor could, though all should hoot me down with sneers;
My pathos would move laughter, and not tears,