FAUST
Woe's me! I cannot bear thy sight!
SPIRIT
To see me thou dost breathe thine invocation,
My voice to hear, to gaze upon my brow;
Me doth thy strong entreaty bow—
Lo! I am here!—What cowering agitation
Grasps thee, the demigod! Where's now the soul's deep cry?
Where is the breast, which in its depths a world conceiv'd,
And bore and cherished? which, with ecstasy,
To rank itself with us, the spirits, heaved?
Where art thou, Faust? Whose voice heard I resound
Who toward me press'd with energy profound?
Art thou he? Thou,—who by my breath art blighted,
Who, in his spirit's depths affrighted,
Trembles, a crush'd and writhing worm!
FAUST
Shall I yield, thing of flame, to thee?
Faust, and thine equal, I am he!
SPIRIT
In the currents of life, in action's storm,
I float and I wave
With billowy motion!
Birth and the grave,
O limitless ocean,
A constant weaving
With change still rife,
A restless heaving,
A glowing life—-
Thus time's whirring loom unceasing I ply,
And weave the life-garment of deity.
FAUST
Thou, restless spirit, dost from end to end
O'ersweep the world; how near I feel to thee!