[He turns over the leaves of the book impatiently, and perceives the sign of the Earth-spirit.]
How all unlike the influence of this sign!
Earth-spirit, thou to me art nigher,
E'en now my strength is rising higher,
E'en now I glow as with new wine;
Courage I feel, abroad the world to dare,
The woe of earth, the bliss of earth to bear,
With storms to wrestle, brave the lightning's glare,
And mid the crashing shipwreck not despair.
Clouds gather over me—
The moon conceals her light—
The lamp is quench'd—
Vapors are arising—Quiv'ring round my head
Flash the red beams—Down from the vaulted roof
A shuddering horror floats,
And seizes me!
I feel it, spirit, prayer-compell'd, 'tis thou
Art hovering near!
Unveil thyself!
Ha! How my heart is riven now!
Each sense, with eager palpitation,
Is strain'd to catch some new sensation!
I feel my heart surrender'd unto thee!
Thou must! Thou must! Though life should be the fee!
[He seizes the book, and pronounces mysteriously the sign of the spirit. A ruddy flame flashes up; the spirit appears in the flame.]
SPIRIT
Who calls me?
FAUST (turning aside)
Dreadful shape!
SPIRIT
With might,
Thou hast compell'd me to appear,
Long hast been sucking at my sphere,
And now—