Promenade
By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing!I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it forswearing!
What ails thee? What is’t gripes thee, elf?A face like thine beheld I never.
I would myself unto the Devil deliver,If I were not a Devil myself!
Thy head is out of order, sadly:It much becomes thee to be raving madly.
Just think, the pocket of a priest should getThe trinkets left for Margaret!The mother saw them, and, instanter,A secret dread began to haunt her.Keen scent has she for tainted air;She snuffs within her book of prayer,And smells each article, to seeIf sacred or profane it be;So here she guessed, from every gem,That not much blessing came with them.“My child,” she said, “ill-gotten goodEnsnares the soul, consumes the blood.Before the Mother of God we’ll lay it;With heavenly manna she’ll repay it!”But Margaret thought, with sour grimace,“A gift-horse is not out of place,And, truly! godless cannot beThe one who brought such things to me.”A parson came, by the mother bidden:He saw, at once, where the game was hidden,And viewed it with a favor stealthy.He spake: “That is the proper view,—Who overcometh, winneth too.The Holy Church has a stomach healthy:Hath eaten many a land as forfeit,And never yet complained of surfeit:The Church alone, beyond all question,Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion.”
A general practice is the same,Which Jew and King may also claim.
Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings,As if but toadstools were the things,And thanked no less, and thanked no moreThan if a sack of nuts he bore,—Promised them fullest heavenly pay,And deeply edified were they.
Sits unrestful still,And knows not what she should, or will;Thinks on the jewels, day and night,But more on him who gave her such delight.
The darling’s sorrow gives me pain.Get thou a set for her again!The first was not a great display.
Fix and arrange it to my will;And on her neighbor try thy skill!Don’t be a Devil stiff as paste,But get fresh jewels to her taste!
Such an enamored fool in air would blowSun, moon, and all the starry legions,To give his sweetheart a diverting show.
Words in this poem
- unsparing a.
- Not sparing; not parsimonious; liberal; profuse. Burke. [Pref. un- not + sparing, p. pr. of spare.]
- sadly adv.
- Wearily; heavily; firmly.
- madly adv.
- In a mad manner; without reason or understanding; wildly. [From Mad, a.]
- instanter adv.
- Immediately; instantly; at once; as, he left instanter. [L., vehemently, earnestly. See Instant, n. & a.]
- godless a.
- Having, or acknowledging, no God; without reverence for God; impious; wicked.
- starry a.
- Abounding with stars; adorned with stars.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Promenade is in the public domain. This text is taken from Faust, Part One, Project Gutenberg ebook #14591, the Bayard Taylor translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Promenade, in Faust, Part One (1870), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #14591, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/goethe-faust/promenade.html, id L14391.
Form and metre
Promenade is 59 lines in 11 verse paragraphs. It is in rhyming couplets, 64% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 97% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.6 syllables. 18 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 12% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 A-A unsparingA · for · swearingA
- 4 AA sadlyA · madlyA
- 5 AA--BBCCDDEEAAFFCC--GHHG--II getA · margaretA · instanter · her · airB · prayerB · seeC · beC · gemD · themD · goodE · bloodE · itA · itA · grimaceF · placeF · beC · meC · bidden · hidden · stealthyG · viewH · tooH · healthyG · forfeit · surfeit · questionI · digestionI
- 6 AA sameA · claimA
- 7 AABBCC ringsA · thingsA · moreB · boreB · payC · theyC
- 8 AABB stillA · willA · nightB · delightB
- 9 AA- painA · againA · display
- 10 AABB willA · skillA · pasteB · tasteB
- 11 A-A blowA · legions · showA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| By all love ever rejected! By hell-fire hot and unsparing! | 15 | ···/˘/˘··/··˘/˘ |
| I wish I knew something worse, that I might use it for | 13 | ····/˘······· |
| swearing! | 2 | /˘ |
| What ails thee? What is’t gripes thee, elf? | 8 | ········ |
| A face like thine beheld I never. | 9 | ····˘/·/˘ |
| I would myself unto the Devil deliver, | 11 | ···/···/˘/˘ |
| If I were not a Devil myself! | 8 | ·····/·/ |
| Thy head is out of order, sadly: | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| It much becomes thee to be raving madly. | 11 | ··˘/···/˘/˘ |
| Just think, the pocket of a priest should get | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| The trinkets left for Margaret! | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| The mother saw them, and, instanter, | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| A secret dread began to haunt her. | 9 | ·/˘·˘/··· |
| Keen scent has she for tainted air; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| She snuffs within her book of prayer, | 8 | ········ |
| And smells each article, to see | 8 | ···/˘˘·· |
| If sacred or profane it be; | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| So here she guessed, from every gem, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| That not much blessing came with them. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| “My child,” she said, “ill-gotten good | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Ensnares the soul, consumes the blood. | 8 | ˘/··˘/·· |
| Before the Mother of God we’ll lay it; | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| With heavenly manna she’ll repay it!” | 9 | ·/˘/˘·˘/· |
| But Margaret thought, with sour grimace, | 9 | ·/˘˘··//˘ |
| “A gift-horse is not out of place, | 8 | ········ |
| And, truly! godless cannot be | 8 | ·/˘/˘/˘· |
| The one who brought such things to me.” | 8 | ········ |
| A parson came, by the mother bidden: | 10 | ·/˘···/˘/˘ |
| He saw, at once, where the game was hidden, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| And viewed it with a favor stealthy. | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| He spake: “That is the proper view,— | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Who overcometh, winneth too. | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| The Holy Church has a stomach healthy: | 10 | ·/˘···/˘/˘ |
| Hath eaten many a land as forfeit, | 9 | ·/˘/···/˘ |
| And never yet complained of surfeit: | 9 | ·/˘·˘/·/˘ |
| The Church alone, beyond all question, | 9 | ··˘/···/˘ |
| Has for ill-gotten goods the right digestion.” | 11 | ···/˘···˘/˘ |
| A general practice is the same, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Which Jew and King may also claim. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Then bagged the spangles, chains, and rings, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| As if but toadstools were the things, | 8 | ········ |
| And thanked no less, and thanked no more | 8 | ········ |
| Than if a sack of nuts he bore,— | 8 | ········ |
| Promised them fullest heavenly pay, | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘· |
| And deeply edified were they. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Sits unrestful still, | 5 | ····· |
| And knows not what she should, or will; | 8 | ········ |
| Thinks on the jewels, day and night, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But more on him who gave her such delight. | 10 | ········˘/ |
| The darling’s sorrow gives me pain. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Get thou a set for her again! | 8 | ······˘/ |
| The first was not a great display. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Fix and arrange it to my will; | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| And on her neighbor try thy skill! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Don’t be a Devil stiff as paste, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But get fresh jewels to her taste! | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Such an enamored fool in air would blow | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| Sun, moon, and all the starry legions, | 9 | ·····/˘/˘ |
| To give his sweetheart a diverting show. | 10 | ···/··˘/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.