Goethe's Faust / translated into English verse by Sir George Lefevre.

  • Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 1749-1832.
Date:
1843
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Goethe's Faust / translated into English verse by Sir George Lefevre. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by Royal College of Physicians, London. The original may be consulted at Royal College of Physicians, London.

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    Was it not sent to me and you? ’T was your’s as well as mine. Is’t thou ? Give me thy hand. It is no dream! Thy dear, dear hand ! How moist doth seem! 0 wipe it dry! Do I see right ? There’s blood upon it. God of might! What hast thou done? put up thy sword— 1 bid thee do it; mind my word. Faust. O talk not thus of times gone by! What’s past is past; you’ll make me die. Margaret. No, thou must live! Be it your care To dig the graves to-morrow there Upon the spot, which I shall trace. Our mother claims the noblest place ; Next to her let my brother rest; Then me, my babe upon my breast, Near to his side, And not too wide; None else will e’er repose by me, What happiness to rest by thee! 0 what delight in that sweet thought It ne’er again will be my lot; 1 ever try to cling to thee, Thou tear’st thyself away from me. O why in such repulsive mood? Still it is you; you look so good. Faust. Dost feel ’tis I ? O come with me.