Faust

(who all this time has been standing before a looking-glass, now approaching, and now retiring from it)

What do I see? what form, whose charms transcend The loveliness of earth, is mirror'd here! O Love, to waft me to her sphere, To me the swiftest of thy pinions lend! Alas! If I remain not rooted to this place, If to approach more near I'm fondly lur'd, Her image fades, in veiling mist obscur'd Model of beauty both in form and face! Is't possible? Hath woman charms so rare? In this recumbent form, supremely fair, The essence must I see of heavenly grace? Can aught so exquisite on earth be found?