away. But soon these terrible presentiments are
realized. Faust learns--how we are not told--that Gretchen is in prison,
and condemned to death on the scaffold; for in her madness--yes, surely
in madness--she has drowned her own child.

Instead of attempting to describe what follows, I shall offer a literal
prose translation of some parts of the concluding scene, asking you to
supply by your imagination, as best you may, the power and harmony of
Goethe's wonderful verse.

_A gloomy day. Open country._

_FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES. FAUST is speaking._

FAUST. In misery! In despair! Piteously wandering day after
day o'er the face of the earth,--and now imprisoned! That
sweet unhappy being shut up in a dungeon, as a criminal, and
exposed to horrible torments! Has it come to _this_!--to
this!... Treacherous, villainous spirit! and _this_ thou
hast concealed from me!... Stand there, stand, and roll thy
devilish eyes in fury! Imprisoned! In hopeless misery!
Delivered over to evil spirits and the heartless verdict of
mankind!... And _thou_ meantime hast lulled me with
loathsome dissipation ... thou hast hidden from me her
ever-deepening despair, and hast suffered her to perish
helplessly.

MEPH. She isn't the first.

FAUST. Dog! Abominable monster! Turn him, O Infinite Spirit,
turn this reptile back into his dog-shape ... that he may
crawl on his belly before me ... that I may trample the
abandoned wretch underfoot. Not the first!... Woe! Woe not
to be grasped by any human soul, that _more_ than _one_
should sink into this abyss of misery--that the _first_, in
her writhing agony before the eyes of the All-merciful,
should not have made satisfaction for the guilt of all
others. The misery of this _one_ pierces with agony my
deepest soul--and _thou_ calmly grinnest at the fate of
thousands!

MEPH. Here we are again, at the end of our wits!--where the
common sense of you mortals loses its hold and snaps. Why
dost thou make fellowship with us, if thou canst not carry
it through? Wilt thou fly, and art not secure from
dizziness? Did we thrust ourselves upon thee, or thou
thyself upon us?

FAUST. Gnash not thy ravening teeth at me! I loathe thee!
Mighty, glorious Spirit--thou who didst deign to appear to
me, and knowest my heart and soul, why dost thou fe