What a clamor! What a quaking!
Stairs are rocking, walls are shaking:
Through the windows' quivering sheen,
Are the stormful lightnings seen;
Springs the ceiling,—thence, below,
Lime and mortar rattling flow:
And, though bolted fast, the door
Is undone by magic power!
There, in Faust's old fleece bedight,
Stands a giant,—dreadful sight!
At his glance, his beck, at me!
I could sink upon my knee.
Shall I fly, or shall I stay?
What will be my fate today?
MEPHISTOPHELES
Come hither, friend!—Your name is Nicodemus?
FAMULUS
Most honor'd Sir, such is my name.—Oremus!
MEPHISTOPHELES
That we'll omit!
FAMULUS
O joy, me you do not forget.