Goethe / Blake Faust

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-3-96189-301-0
Verlag: Sheba Blake Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 139 Seiten

Faust is the protagonist of a classic German legend. He is a scholar who is highly successful yet dissatisfied with his life, which leads him to make a pact with the Devil, exchanging his soul for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures. The Faust legend has been the basis for many literary, artistic, cinematic, and musical works that have reinterpreted it through the ages. 'Faust' and the adjective 'Faustian' imply a situation in which an ambitious person surrenders moral integrity in order to achieve power and success for a delimited term. The Faust of early books.as well as the ballads, dramas, movies, and puppet-plays which grew out of them.is irrevocably damned because he prefers human to divine knowledge; 'he laid the Holy Scriptures behind the door and under the bench, refused to be called doctor of Theology, but preferred to be styled doctor of Medicine'. Plays and comic puppet theatre loosely based on this legend were popular throughout Germany in the 16th century, often reducing Faust and Mephistopheles to figures of vulgar fun. The story was popularised in England by Christopher Marlowe, who gave it a classic treatment in his play, The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus (of which the date for publication is debated, but was likely around 1587). In Goethe's reworking of the story two hundred years later, Faust becomes a dissatisfied intellectual who yearns for 'more than earthly meat and drink' in his life.

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Autoren/Hrsg.

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von

Blake, Sheba

Leseproben

PROLOGUE
    Erhabener Geist, im Geisterreich verloren!?Wo immer Deine lichte Wohnung sey,?Zum höh'ren Schaffen bist Du neugeboren,?Und singest dort die voll're Litanei.?Von jenem Streben das Du auserkoren,?Vom reinsten Aether, drin Du athmest frei,?O neige Dich zu gnädigem Erwiedern?Des letzten Wiederhalls von Deinen Liedern! II Den alten Musen die bestäubten Kronen?Nahmst Du, zu neuem Glanz, mit kühner Hand:?Du löst die Räthsel ältester Aeonen?Durch jüngeren Glauben, helleren Verstand,?Und machst, wo rege Menschengeister wohnen,?Die ganze Erde Dir zum Vaterland;?Und Deine Jünger sehn in Dir, verwundert,?Verkörpert schon das werdende Jahrhundert. III Was Du gesungen, Aller Lust und Klagen,?Des Lebens Wiedersprüche, neu vermählt,--?Die Harfe tausendstimmig frisch geschlagen,?Die Shakspeare einst, die einst Homer gewählt,--?Darf ich in fremde Klänge übertragen?Das Alles, wo so Mancher schon gefehlt??Lass Deinen Geist in meiner Stimme klingen,?Und was Du sangst, lass mich es Dir nachsingen!_ B.T. Again ye come, ye hovering Forms! I find ye,?As early to my clouded sight ye shone!?Shall I attempt, this once, to seize and bind ye??Still o'er my heart is that illusion thrown??Ye crowd more near! Then, be the reign assigned ye,?And sway me from your misty, shadowy zone!?My bosom thrills, with youthful passion shaken,?From magic airs that round your march awaken. Of joyous days ye bring the blissful vision;?The dear, familiar phantoms rise again,?And, like an old and half-extinct tradition,?First Love returns, with Friendship in his train.?Renewed is Pain: with mournful repetition?Life tracks his devious, labyrinthine chain,?And names the Good, whose cheating fortune tore them?From happy hours, and left me to deplore them. They hear no longer these succeeding measures,?The souls, to whom my earliest songs I sang: Dispersed the friendly troop, with all its pleasures,?And still, alas! the echoes first that rang!?I bring the unknown multitude my treasures;?Their very plaudits give my heart a pang,?And those beside, whose joy my Song so flattered,?If still they live, wide through the world are scattered. And grasps me now a long-unwonted yearning?For that serene and solemn Spirit-Land:?My song, to faint Aeolian murmurs turning,?Sways like a harp-string by the breezes fanned.?I thrill and tremble; tear on tear is burning,?And the stern heart is tenderly unmanned.?What I possess, I see far distant lying,?And what I lost, grows real and undying. MANAGER DRAMATIC POET MERRY-ANDREW MANAGER You two, who oft a helping hand?Have lent, in need and tribulation.?Come, let me know your expectation?Of this, our enterprise, in German land!?I wish the crowd to feel itself well treated,?Especially since it lives and lets me live;?The posts are set, the booth of boards completed.?And each awaits the banquet I shall give.?Already there, with curious eyebrows raised,?They sit sedate, and hope to be amazed.?I know how one the People's taste may flatter,?Yet here a huge embarrassment I feel:?What they're accustomed to, is no great matter,?But then, alas! they've read an awful deal.?How shall we plan, that all be fresh and new,--?Important matter, yet attractive too??For 'tis my pleasure-to behold them surging,?When to our booth the current sets apace,?And with tremendous, oft-repeated urging,?Squeeze onward through the narrow gate of grace:?By daylight even, they push and cram in?To reach the seller's box, a fighting host,?And as for bread, around a baker's door, in famine,?To get a ticket break their necks almost.?This miracle alone can work the Poet?On men so various: now, my friend, pray show it. POET Speak not to me of yonder motley masses,?Whom but to see, puts out the fire of Song!?Hide from my view the surging crowd that passes,?And in its whirlpool forces us along!?No, lead me where some heavenly silence glasses?The purer joys that round the Poet throng,--?Where Love and Friendship still divinely fashion?The bonds that bless, the wreaths that crown his passion!?Ah, every utterance from the depths of feeling?The timid lips have stammeringly expressed,--?Now failing, now, perchance, success revealing,--?Gulps the wild Moment in its greedy breast;?Or oft, reluctant years its warrant sealing,?Its perfect stature stands at last confessed!?What dazzles, for the Moment spends its spirit:?What's genuine, shall Posterity inherit. MERRY-ANDREW Posterity! Don't name the word to me!?If _I_ should choose to preach Posterity,?Where would you get contemporary fun??That men will have it, there's no blinking:?A fine young fellow's presence, to my thinking,?Is something worth, to every one.?Who genially his nature can outpour,?Takes from the People's moods no irritation;?The wider circle he acquires, the more?Securely works his inspiration.?Then pluck up heart, and give us sterling coin!?Let Fancy be with her attendants fitted,--?Sense, Reason, Sentiment, and Passion join,--?But have a care, lest Folly be omitted! MANAGER Chiefly, enough of incident prepare!?They come to look, and they prefer to stare.?Reel off a host of threads before their faces,?So that they gape in stupid wonder: then?By sheer diffuseness you have won their graces,?And are, at once, most popular of men.?Only by mass you touch the mass; for any?Will finally, himself, his bit select:?Who offers much, brings something unto many,?And each goes home content with the effect,?If you've a piece, why, just in pieces give it:?A hash, a stew, will bring success, believe it!?'Tis easily displayed, and easy to invent.?What use, a Whole compactly to present??Your hearers pick and pluck, as soon as they receive it! POET You do not feel, how such a trade debases;?How ill it suits the Artist, proud and true!?The botching work each fine pretender traces?Is, I perceive, a principle with you. MANAGER Such a reproach not in the least offends;?A man who some result intends?Must use the tools that best are fitting.?Reflect, soft wood is given to you for splitting,?And then, observe for whom you write!?If one comes bored, exhausted quite,?Another, satiate, leaves the...