The kiss of heavenly love and praise
Fell on me like a sacred balm;
My youthful heart then often found
A mystic meaning in the sound
Of the full bell,—and I could share
The deep enjoyment of a prayer;

A longing of surpassing sweetness drove

Me forth, through forest, field, and plain to rove,
And there I felt a world within me, spread

Amid the thousand burning tears I shed.
This anthem token'd then to me

The sports of spring festivity,

And with these feelings, memory now
Withholds me from the final blow.

Melodious tones! continue yet!

Sound on, thou sweet and heavenly strain!
The tear hoth flown-mine eye is wet-
And earth possesses me again!

Chorus of Disciples.

Now has the buried One-the blest-
Arisen to his glorious sphere!

Of ever-growing bliss possest,
He to creative love is near;

But we, alas! on earth's cold breast,

Must still remain in suffering here!
He hath from us, his children, gone,
And we are left to languish on;

In pain and sorrow, and distress
We weep, O Lord! thy happiness!

Chorus of Angels.

The Saviour Christ has risen

From corruption and decay!

The bonds that now your souls imprison,
Go! tear with joy, away!

Go! let your DEEDS his praises prove,
To all make manifest his love;
Like brethren live, and journey on,
Preaching the truth of Him that's gone!
Make known his promise to the earth,
Bliss unto all of mortal birth;
To you the Master shall be nigh,
For you he has been raised on high!

SCENE. BEFORE THE GATE.

People of all descriptions pass out.

Some Mechanics. Why that way?

Others.

Up to the Jagerhaus

The First.

Why, we mean to go

But we

Would rather to the mill, I trow!

1 Mech. Nay, I advise you let it be The Wasserhof!

A Second. Not so for there

The road is neither good nor fair!

The Others. What shall you do?
A Third.

Will go just where the others lead !

Oh! I indeed

A Fourth. Up, then, to Burgdorf-there you'll find The prettiest of girls-the best of beer

And rows, too, of the primest kind !

Is

A Fifth. Wild rascal! will you never fear?

your skin itching, to a third

Good beating then to be preferr'd?

That path to-day I will not trace,

For I've a horror of the place!

1 Serv. Girl. No! I shall go back to the city

2 Serv. Girl.

Down by the poplars he is sure to be!

Why?

1 Serv. Girl. Well! very little should I gain thereby; He dances not with any one but thee !

And what, pray, are your pleasures unto me ?

2 Serv. Girl. But I am certain that to-day, Alone he will not for us wait,—

I tell you that I heard him say

With him would come the curly-pate!

1 Schol. How the brave wenches step along!
Come, brother! let's join company!
Stout humming beer-tobacco strong-
And a tight girl are things for me!

1 Cit. Maiden. Who can those fine young men there, be? Look! 'tis a perfect shame to seeObserve with whom they laugh and talk;

Genteelest company they shun,

They even with the best might walk,

Yet after those maid-servants run!

2 Schol. Stay! here's two ladies close behind, And neatly they are dress'd I

swear,

One is my neighbour-to my mind,
I really think the girl is fair!
Though walking with that pace demure,
They'll let us join them still, be sure.

1 Schol. No! come along;-I hate to be
Under restraint-quick, quick! or we
Shall lose our game. I say the hand

That through the week the besom wields, When Sunday comes, is warm and bland, And aye the best caresses yields!

1 Townsman. The new-made burgomaster-I Must say does not act properly,

Or to my taste-now in the chair,
He daily seems the more to dare;
The town-what does he for it pray,
Is it not growing worse each day?
Our burdens greater than before,
And day by day we're paying more!

Beggar (sings).

Kind gentlemen, and ladies fair,
So rosy-cheek'd, and dress'd so rare,
Be pleased to give, while passing by,
Something to aid my poverty.
Look on me with an eye of pity,
That not in vain I sing my ditty;
'Tis he alone who freely gives,
That merrily and gaily lives,
This holiday to all-oh! be

It too a harvest-day to me.

2 Towns. Nothing I know to me has greater charms Upon a Sunday or a holiday,

Than a snug chat of war and war's alarms,
While people fight in Turkey far away.
One stands beside the window-takes his glass,
Sees down the stream the painted vessels pass,
Then gladly home returns as evening chimes,
With blessings upon peace and peaceful times.

3 Towns. Yes, neighbour, yes! I little care
How matters may be managed there,
All things they there may overthrow,
And break each other's heads at will,

Only at home pray let us go

According to old custom still.

Old Woman (to the Citizens' Daughters). How nicely dress'd- —so young, so fair,

Who would not love your form and air!
Nay, not so proud ;-there, that is well-
And, pretty maidens, do not doubt,
That what you wish for, I can tell
How to contrive and bring about.

1 Cit. Maiden. Come, Agatha! I'm very careful how With such old witches publicly I go,

Though on Saint Andrew's eve, 'tis true I vow,

She did my future lover to me show.

2 Cit. Maiden. And mine she show'd me in a glass,

All soldier-like, with others too;

Each

way I look to see him pass, But yet his form can never view.

Soldier (sings).

Towns begirt with walls and moats,
Maids of proud and lofty thoughts-
Strong without, and strong within-
These are what I love to win!
Bold is the attempt and hard,
But as noble the reward.

Summon'd by the trumpet's breath
We go to rapture or to death;
For 'tis amid the battle's strife

Thrills the rush-the life of life!

Maiden's heart, and city's wall,

'Were made to yield, were made to fall;

Bold is the attempt and hard,

But as noble the reward;

When we've held them each their day,

Soldier-like, we march away!

Enter FAUST and WAGNER.

Faust. 'Neath the gay, quickening glance of Spring,

Freed from their ice the streamlets flow,

Those joys of hope the sunbeams bring

Are budding in the vale below;