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Poor Margaret's ruin is brought who has heard of his sister's shame, before the reader by the exhibition of shall be slain by Faustus, and poor bar remorse. She is represented before Margaret is brought in just in time to an image of the Mater Dolorosa, and witness his death. te hymn with which she accompanies The terrific scene which follows is ter offering is exquisitely pathetic. one of the most perilous and successful We can afford room but for one essays ever made by any dramatic

poet :"Where can I go? where can I go ?

Every where woe! woe! woe!
Nothing that does not my own grief betoken;
And when I am alone

MARGARET, among a number of people.-I moan, and moan, and moan,

Evil SPIRIT behind MARGARET. And am heartbroken."

In the next scene Mephistopheles so How changed is every thing contrives it that Margaret's brother, With thee, poor Margaret,



Air-light-exposureWoe's thee!



Since when, still full of innocence,
Thou to this very altar
Didst come, and from the little old thumbed

Didst lisp the murmured prayers ;
Half with the children out at play,
In a child's happy, fancies, thy young heart,
And half with God in heaven.

And dost thou, canst thou think?
Thy brain, where wanders it ? .
In thy heart oh what a weight
Of guilt ! of evil done!
Prayest thou for thy mother's soul-
She who through thee did sleep and

sleep away
Into undying agonies ?
And on thy door-stead whose the blood?
And in thy bosom is there not
A stirring, that is torture,
And with foreboding fears
Makes felt the present woe?

EVIL SPIRIT From thee their countenances The sons of light all turn. To reach to thee their hands Makes the pure shudderWoe!



MARGARET (fainting) to the girl next her. Your flasket, friend.

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After the murder of Margaret's brother, Faustus is hurried by Mephistopheles to a festival of witches and demons on the Hartz Mountains. This extraordinary scene, in which poets, philosophers, wizards, goblins, demons, All th' unaccomplished works of nature's hands, Abortive, monstrous, or confusedly mixed, are hurled together in wild medley, mocks any attempt at description. The fiend's design is probably to produce madness in his stupefied victim ; and how well calculated the scene is for this purpose may be judged from the following magnificent description of the tumultuous midnight march to this infernal congress, in which Mr. Anster has convinced us of capabilities in the English language of which we had no conception. He had here, too, to contend with Shelley, who, if, as we are inclined to think, he has in one or two parts of the scene surpassed our author, can, on the whole, certainly claim no more than a fair equality, and who, in the particular passage we are about to quote, though very excellent, is decidedly inferior.


That I were out of this--
I feel as if the organ
Stifled my breathing,
And that the anthem was
Breaking my heart.



I feel so tightened here,
The pillars of the wall
Are grasping me;
The arch above
Weighs on me.- Air !

Clouds frown heavily, and hearken How the wood groans as they darken, And the owls, in fear and fright At the stormy face of night, Beat the air in homeward flight; The halls of evergreen are shaking, And their thousand pillars breaking, Hearken how the tempest wrenches Groaning trunks and crashing branches, And the earth beneath is risted, And the shrieking trees upliftedBole, and bough, and blossom chcersul,


Hiile thyself—sin and shame
Will find thee out-
Oh, never were they hidden-


Fair trees fall in ruin fearful ;

Distant now--now warbling nearer-How the haughty forest brothers Now all the haunted hill along Bend and tremble !-how they fall ! Streams the maddening magic song ! How they cling on one another's Arms!-each crushes each and smothers, Till, tangled, strangled, down come all ;

On to the Brocken the witches are flockAnd the wild winds through the ruin

ingAre bowling, hissing, and hallooing ! Merry meet---merry part-how they Down the valleys how they sweep,

gallop and drive, Round and round, above and under,

Yellow stubble and stalk are rocking, Rend the giant cliffs asunder,

And young green corn is merry alive. And, with shout and scream appalling,

With the shapes and shadows swimming by, Catch the mighty fragments falling!

To the highest heights they fly, How they laugh, and how they leap,

Where Sir Urian sits on bighAs they hurry off their plunder!

Troughout and about, Headlong steep and gorges deep,

With clamour and shout, Golph, and glen, and rock, in wonder,

Drives the maddening rout, Echo back the stormy thunder !

Over stock, over stone ; · List !- I thought I heard a ringing Shriek, laughter, and moan, In my ear of voices singing

Before them are blown. Above-around us—faint, now clearer,

The wind that scattered the clouds is dead,
And they thicken soon o'er the wandering moon :
She hides her head and the stars are fled ;-
With a whispering, whistling, drizzling sound,
And a fall of meteor fires around-
Onward, onward, hurry, skurry,
The hell-driven rout of wizards hurry.

Faustus having discovered that Mar- admission to her dungeon, and the garet is in prison and about to be ex means of effecting it himself. In the ecuted for the murder of her mother next scene he and Mephistopheles and child, an angry interview takes appear rushing on black steeds over a place between him and the fiend, wild plain where some unballowed the original prose of which, we much rites are performing. Then follows wish that Mr. Anster had, in conde- the closing, and, perhaps, the most scension to our British tastes, rendered effective scene in the whole of this in verse. Faustus insists that the fiend extraordinary drama.

We shall not shall obtain his mistress' liberation. attempt to weaken its effect by comThis Mephistopheles is unable to com ment or abridg ment. ply with, but promises to procure him


FAUSTUS (with a bunch of keys and a lamp before an iron wicket).

'Tis many a day since I have trembled thus.
Misery on misery heaped—a heavy burden,
More than man can endure, has weighed me down.
And here within these damp walls doth she live,
And is to die because she was deluded --
To die for that her brain was wild and frenzied.
And thou dost hesitate to go to her !
Dost fear to look upon that face again!
Onward, irresolute !- this mad delaying
Keeps death a lingerer here--secures his prey.
[He takes hold of the lock.- Singing heard from within.-

MARGARET's roice.]


My mother ! my mother !
The wanton woman--My mother hath slain me.
My father, inhuman, For supper hath ta'en me-
My little sister hath, one by one,
Laid together each small white bone,
'Mong almond blossoms to sleep in the cool ;

And I woke me a wood-bird beautiful.
Fly away, fly away, all the long summer-day,
Little bird of the woods, fly away! fly away!

FAUSTUS (opening the wicket.)
She feels not that her love is listening-
Hears but the chains that clank, and the straw rustling.

[He enters. MARGARET (hiding her face in the straw of her bed.) Woe! woe! they come! they come !--death, bitter death!

Faustus (in a low voice.) Hush ! hush! 'tis I who come to rescue thee!

MARGARET (rolling herself at his feet.) Art thou a man ? Have pity upon me.

Faustus. Hush ! hush! these screams and shrieks will wake the keepers.

[He takes hold of the chains to unlock them. MARGARET (throwing herself on her knees to him.) Sarage, who gave this cruel power to thee? It is not more than midnight now_have mercy ! Is it too long a time to wait till morn ? And I am still so young--so very young ! And must I die so soon ?-and I was fairAnd I was fair, and that was my undoing. Oh, if my love were here--but he is gone-Torn is my garland-scattered all its AowersOh, do not grasp me with such violenceAh, spare me ! sure I have not injured thee : Let me not weep and pray to thee in vain ! Spare me I never saw thy face before.

How can I bear to see these sufferings ?

I know that I am wholly in thy power-
Only permit me once to give my breast
To this poor child of mine: all the long night
It lay upon my heart, they took it from me ; .
They took away my child to torture me,
And now they say that I have murdered it,
And never more will I be gay and happy :
And they sing songs about me 'twas ill done;
It was ill done so the old ballad runs,
Who told them I was meant in it ?

Thy lover, Margaret, kneels at thy feet;
He comes to open these sad prison gates.

Let us kneel down, and call upon the saints.
See ! see ! beneath us hell boils up--the devil
Is raving there below in hideous rage !

Faustus (in a low tone of roice.)
Margaret Margaret.
MARGARET (with eager attention.)

That is my love's voice.

[Springs up-her irons fall off:
Where is he ? - Where ?- I heard my own love's voice!
Now am I free, none, none shall keep me from him.
I'll clasp his neck, will lean upon his bosom ;
I heard him call,--he's standing on the threshold, -
I heard him call the name of Margaret ;
Amid the noises and the howls of hell,
And threats, and taunts, and laughs of devilish scoro,
I heard my own love's voice—his loving voice!

'Tis I.

'Tis thou !-oh, tell me so once more !

[Presses him to her bosom.
'Tis he, 'tis he--my pangs, where are they now?
Dungeon, and chains, and scaffold, where are they?
'Tis thou, and thou hast come to rescue me.
I am already free : look--there's the street
Where we first met--where first I saw my love-
And yonder is the cheerful garden, smiling,
Where I and Martha used to wait for thee.

Come, come with me.


Oh, stay a little while-
Some moments more-I love to stay with thee!

Haste, haste ! ah, linger not,
One moment more-a moment's lingering now
Will cost-we cannot tell how much.


How ! what!
And hast thou then forgot that kiss of thine,
My love ? So short a time away, and yet
To have forgotten all those signs of love !
Why do I feel so sad upon thy neck ?
Oh, there was once a time when all thy words,
And every glance of thine seemed heaven to me.
And warmly didst thou press me to thy heart !
Oh, let me feel once more that loved embrace!
Alas! thy lips are cold and dumb-ah, where,
Where is thy love ? Who robbed me of thy love ?

Come, come take courage, follow me, my love.
I love thee with unutterable love ;
But follow me-- this one --this one request.

And is it thou, and art thou surely Faustus ?

Yes, yes! But come!


And thou wilt break my chains !
And thou wilt take me to thy arms again!
Vol. VI.

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