Versos English Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Mephistopheles

English poem

Mephistopheles

by (1749–1832)

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Quite right. I see it also, and allege That she beneath her arm her head can bear, Since Perseus cut it off.--But you I swear Are craving for illusion still! Come then, ascend yon little hill! As on the Prater all is gay, And if my senses are not gone, I see a theatre,--what's going on?