How from the window of the sacristy
Upward th’eternal lamp sends forth a glimmer,
That, lessening side-wards, fainter grows and dimmer,
Till darkness closes from the sky!
The shadows thus within my bosom gather.
MEPHISTOPHELES
I’m like a sentimental tom-cat, rather,
That round the tall fire-ladders sweeps,
And stealthy, then, along the coping creeps:
Quite virtuous, withal, I come,
A little thievish and a little frolicsome.
I feel in every limb the presage
Forerunning the grand Walpurgis-Night:
Day after to-morrow brings its message,
And one keeps watch then with delight.
FAUST
Meanwhile, may not the treasure risen be,
Which there, behind, I glimmering see?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Shalt soon experience the pleasure,
To lift the kettle with its treasure.
I lately gave therein a squint—
Saw splendid lion-dollars in ’t.
FAUST
Not even a jewel, not a ring,
To deck therewith my darling girl?
MEPHISTOPHELES