| p237\\ Faust:\\ ...But now it moves most wisely and discreetly.\\ The sphere of Earth is known enough to me;\\ The view beyond is barred immutably:\\ A fool, who there his blinking eyes directeth,\\ And o'er his clouds of peers a place expecteth!\\ Firm let him stand, and look around him well!\\ This World means something to the Capable.\\ Why needs he through Eternity to wend?\\ He here acquires what he can apprehend.\\ Thus let him wander down his earthly day:\\ When spirits haunt, go quietly his way;\\ In marching onwards, bliss and torment find, \\ Though, every moment, with unsated mind!\\ \\ Care:\\ Whom I once possess, shall never\\ Find the world worth his endeavor:\\ Endless gloom around him folding,\\ Rise nor set of sun beholding,\\ Perfect in external senses,\\ Inwardly his darkness dense is;\\ And he knows not how to measure\\ True possession of his treasure.\\ Luck and Ill become caprices;\\ Still he starves in all increases;\\ Be it happiness or sorrow,\\ He postpones it till the morrow;\\ To the Future only cleaveth:\\ Nothing, therefore, he achieveth. | p237\\ Faust:\\ ...But now it moves most wisely and discreetly.\\ The sphere of Earth is known enough to me;\\ The view beyond is barred immutably:\\ A fool, who there his blinking eyes directeth,\\ And o'er his clouds of peers a place expecteth!\\ Firm let him stand, and look around him well!\\ This World means something to the Capable.\\ Why needs he through Eternity to wend?\\ He here acquires what he can apprehend.\\ Thus let him wander down his earthly day:\\ When spirits haunt, go quietly his way;\\ In marching onwards, bliss and torment find, \\ Though, every moment, with unsated mind!\\ \\ Care:\\ Whom I once possess, shall never\\ Find the world worth his endeavor:\\ Endless gloom around him folding,\\ Rise nor set of sun beholding,\\ Perfect in external senses,\\ Inwardly his darkness dense is;\\ And he knows not how to measure\\ True possession of his treasure.\\ Luck and ill become caprices;\\ Still he starves in all increases;\\ Be it happiness or sorrow,\\ He postpones it till the morrow;\\ To the Future only cleaveth:\\ Nothing, therefore, he achieveth. |