Faust — Vocabulary
Goethe (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)
translated by: C.T. Brooks
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  their miseries seem so much to please 'em,
  I scarce can find it in my heart to tease 'em.†12 more

  if that for which my heart
  Yearns with invincible endeavor,
  The crown of man, must hang unreached forever?†13 more

But give ye good heed!†7 more

  The crowd's applause has now a scornful tone;
  O couldst thou hear my conscience tell its story,
  How little either sire or son
  Has done to merit such a glory!†5 more

  I tell you, give them more and ever more and more,
  And then your mark you'll hardly stray from ever;
  To mystify be your endeavor,
  To satisfy is labor sore....
  What ails you?†6 more

  In every dress I well may feel the sore
  Of this low earth-life's melancholy.†5 more

  this once, my gratitude
  Is due to thee, most wretched of earth's creatures.†6 more

  Vanish, ye gloomy
  Vaulted abysses!†5 more

  Far out to sea I'm drawn, sweet voices listening,
  The glassy waters at my feet are glistening,
  To new shores beckons me a new-born day.4 more

  No, lead me to that nook of calm devotion,
  Where blooms pure joy upon the Muses' hill;
  Where love and friendship aye create and cherish,
  With hand divine, heart-joys that never perish.†2 more

  I've lost full many a year in poring o'er it,
  For perfect contradiction, you must know,
  A mystery stands, and fools and wise men bow before it,
  The art is old and new, my son.†1 more

  And tempests roar, glad warfare waging,
  From sea to land, from land to sea,
  And bind round all, amidst their raging,
  A chain of giant energy.†4 more

  Is it not dust that makes this lofty wall
  Groan with its hundred shelves and cases;
  The rubbish and the thousand trifles all
  That crowd these dark, moth-peopled places?†4 more

  Where Fantasy, erewhile, with daring flight
  Out to the infinite her wings expanded,
  A little space can now suffice her quite,
  When hope on hope time's gulf has wrecked and stranded.†3 more

What feelings, O great man, thy heart must swell
  Thus to receive a people's veneration!†3 more

Hast nothing for our edification?†2 more

  One, after this play, hopes to play at cards,
  One a wild night to spend beside his doxy chooses,
  Poor fools, why court ye the regards,
  For such a set, of the chaste muses?†2 more

  What shines, is born but for the moment's pleasure;
  The genuine leaves posterity a treasure.†1 more

  That impudence of mine, so daring,
  As thou wast home from church repairing?†1 more

  Then there'll be talk of truth unending,
  Of love o'ermastering, all transcending—Will every word be heart-born there?†1 more