LYNCEUS. Small is what our Lord doth say; And herewith exit Lynceus, and we see no more of him! We have said that we thought there might be method in this madness. In fact, the allegorical, or at least fantastic and figurative, character of the whole action is growing more and more decided every moment. Helena, we must conjecture, is, in the course of this her real historical intrigue with Faust, to present, at the same time, some dim adumbration of Grecian Art, and its flight to the Northern Nations, when driven by stress of War from its own country. Faust's Tower will, in this case, afford not only a convenient station for lifting blackmail over the neighbouring district, but a cunning, though vague and fluctuating, emblem of the Product of Teutonic Mind; the Science, Art, Institutions of the Northmen, of whose Spirit and Genius he himself may in some degree become the representative. In this way the extravagant homage and admiration paid to Helena are not without their meaning. The manner of her arrival, enveloped as she was in thick clouds, and frightened onwards by hostile trumpets, may also have more or less propriety. And who is Lynceus, the mad Watchman? We cannot but suspect him of being a Schoolman Philosopher, or School Philosophy itself, in disguise; and that this wonderful march' of his has a covert allusion to the great 'march of intellect,' which did march in those old ages, though only at ordinary time.' We observe, the military, one after the other, all fell; for discoverers, like other men, must die; but still the next had prowess more,' and forgot the thousands that had sunk in clearing the way for him. However, Lynceus, in his love of plunder, did not take 'the fairest maid,' nor the steer' fit for burden, but rather jewels and other rare articles of value; in which quest his high power of eyesight proved of great service to him. Better had it been, perhaps, to have done as others did, and seized 'the fairest maid,' or even the steer' fit for burden, or one of the 'horses' which were in such request: for, when he quitted practical Science and the philosophy of Life, and addicted himself to curious subtleties and Metaphysical crotchets, what did it avail him? At the first glance of the Grecian beauty, he found that it was 'nought, poor and misunderstood.' His extraordinary obscuration of vision on Helena's approach; his narrow escape from death, on that account, at the hands of Faust; his pardon by the fair Greek: his subsequent magnanimous offer to her, and discourse with his master on the subject,-might give rise to various considerations. But we must not loiter, questioning the strange Shadows of that strange country, who, besides, are apt to mystify one. Our nearest business is to get across it: we again proceed. Whoever or whatever Faust and Helena may be, they are evidently fast rising into high favour with each other; as indeed, from so generous a gallant, and so fair a dame, was to be anticipated. She invites him to sit with her on the throne, so instantaneously acquired by force of her charms; to which graceful proposal he, after kissing her hand in knightly wise, fails not to accede. The courtship now advances apace. Helena admires the dialect of Lynceus, and how one word seemed to kiss the other,'-for the Warder, as we saw, speaks in doggrel; and she cannot but wish that she also had some such talent. Faust assures her that nothing is more easy than this same practice of rhyme: it is but speaking right from the heart, and the rest follows of course. Withal he proposes that they should make a trial of it themselves. The experiment succeeds to mutual satisfaction: for not only can they two build the lofty rhyme in concert, with all convenience, but, in the course of a page or two of such crambo, many love-tokens come to light; nay we find by the Chorus that the wooing has well-nigh reached a happy end at least, the two are sitting near and nearer each other, shoulder on shoulder, knee by knee, hand in hand, they are swaying over the throne's up-cushioned lordliness;' which, surely, are promising symptoms. 6 Such ill-timed dalliance is abruptly disturbed by the entrance of Phorcyas, now, as ever, a messenger of evil, with malignant tidings that Menelaus is at hand, with his whole force, to storm the Castle, and ferociously avenge his new injuries. An immense 'explosion of signals from the towers, of trumpets, clarions, military music, and the march of nu'merous armies,' confirms the news. Faust, however, treats the matter coolly; chides the unceremonious trepidation of Phorcyas, and summons his men of war; who accordingly enter, steel-clad, in military pomp, and quitting their battalions, gather round him to take his orders. In a wild Pindaric ode, delivered with due emphasis, he directs them not so much how they are to conquer Menelaus, whom doubtless he knows to be a sort of dream, as how they are respectively to manage and partition the Country they shall hereby acquire. Germanus is to have the 'bays of Corinth ;' while Achaia, with its hundred dells,' is recommended to the care of Goth; the host of the Franks must go towards Elis; Messene is to be the Saxon's share; and Normann is to clear the seas, and make Argolis great. Sparta, however, is to continue the territory of Helena, and be queen and patroness of these inferior Dukedoms. In all this, are we to trace some faint changeful shadow of the National Character, and respective Intellectual Performance of the several European tribes? Or, perhaps, of the real History of the Middle Ages; the irruption of the northern swarms, issuing, like Faust and his air-warriors, from Cimmerian Night,' and spreading over so many fair regions? Perhaps of both, and of more; perhaps properly of neither: for the whole has a chameleon character, changing hue as we look on it. However, be this as it may, the Chorus cannot sufficiently admire Faust's strategic faculty; and the troops march off, without speech indeed, but evidently in the highest spirits. He himself concludes with another rapid dithyrambic, describing the Peninsula of Greece, or rather, perhaps, typically the Region of true Poesy, 'kissed by the sea-waters,' and 'knit to the last mountain-branch' of the firm land. There is a wild glowing fire in these two odes; a musical indistinctness, yet enveloping a rugged, keen sense, which, were the gift of rhyme so common as Faust thinks it, we should have pleasure in presenting to our readers. Again and again we think of Calderon and his Life a Dream. Faust, as he resumes his seat by Helena, observes that 'she is sprung from the highest gods, and belongs to the 'first world alone.' It is not meet that bolted towers should encircle her; and near by Sparta, over the hills, Arcadia 'blooms in eternal strength of youth, a blissful abode for them two.' 'Let thrones pass into groves: Arcadian-free 6 be such felicity! No sooner said than done. Our Fortress, we suppose, rushes asunder like a Palace of Air, for the scene altogether changes. A series of Grottoes now are shut-in by close Bowers. Shady Grove, to the foot of the Rocks which ' encircle the place. Faust and Helena are not seen. The Chorus, scattered around, lie sleeping.' In Arcadia, the business grows wilder than ever. Phorcyas, who has now become wonderfully civil, and, notwithstanding her ugliness, stands on the best footing with the poor light-headed cicada-swarm of a Chorus, awakes them to hear and see the wonders that have happened so shortly. It appears too, that there are certain Bearded Ones' (we suspect, Devils) waiting with anxiety, 'sitting watchful there below,' to see the issue of this extraordinary transaction; but of these Phorcyas gives her silly women no hint whatShe tells them, in glib phrase, what great things are in the wind. Faust and Helena have been happier than mortals in these grottoes. Phorcyas, who was in waiting, gradually glided away, seeking 'roots, moss and rinds,' on household duty bent, and so they two remained alone.' ever. CHORUS. Talk'st as if within those grottoes lay whole tracts of country, PHORCYAS. Sure enough, ye foolish creatures! These are unexplored recesses; Hall runs out on hall, spaces there on spaces: these I musing traced. But at once reëchoes from within a peal of laughter: Peeping in, what is it? Leaps a boy from Mother's breast to Father's, From the Father to the Mother: such a fondling, such a dandling, Foolish Love's caressing, teasing; cry of jest, and shriek of pleasure, In their turn do stun me quite. Naked, without wings a Genius, Faun in humour without coarseness, Springs he sportful on the ground; but the ground reverberating, |