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life’s storm-centres many a year I stood,

      And men had confidence in me, and what

      I taught them through my deep strong sense for truth.

      (Lightning and thunder.)

      Spirit:

      ’Tis fitting for thee to confess that none

      Can tell whence stream the fountains of our thought,

      Nor where the fundaments of Being lie.

      Strader:

      Oh this same speech, which in youth’s hopeful days

      So oft with chill persistence pierced my soul

      When thought-foundations quaked, which once seemed firm!

      (Lightning and thunder.)

      Spirit:

      If thou dost fail to gain the victory

      O’er me with those blunt weapons of thy thought

      Thou art a fleeting phantom, nothing more,

      Formed by thine own deluded imagery.

      Strader:

      So soon again such gruesome speech from thee!

      This too I heard before in mine own soul,

      When once a seeress threateningly did wish

      To wreck the firm foundations of my thought

      And make me feel the sharp dread sting of doubt.

      But that is past, and I defy thy might,

      Thou aged rogue, so cunningly concealed

      Beneath a mask devised by thine own self

      To counterfeit the form of nature’s lord.

      Reason will overthrow thee, otherwise

      Than thou dost think, when once she is enthroned

      Upon the proud heights of the mind of man.

      As mistress will she reign assuredly

      Not as some handmaiden in nature’s realm.

      Spirit:

      The world is ordered so, that every act

      Requires a like reaction: unto you

      I gave the self; ye owe me my reward.

      Capesius:

      I will myself create from mine own soul

      The spirit counterpart of things of sense.

      And when at length all nature stands transformed,

      Idealized through man’s creative work,

      Her mirrored form shall be reward enough;

      And then if thou dost feel thyself akin

      To that great mother of all worlds, and spring’st

      From depths where world-creating forces reign.

      Then let my will, which lives in head and breast,

      Inspiring me to aim at highest goals,

      Be thy reward for deeds done at my best.

      Thy help hath raised me from dull sentiment

      To thought’s proud heights—Let this be thy reward!

      (Lightning and thunder.)

      Spirit:

      Ye well can see, how little your bold words

      Bear weight in my domain: they do but loose

      The storm, and rouse the elements to wrath,

      Fierce adversaries of the ordered world.

      Capesius:

      Take then thine own reward where’t may be found.

      The impulse that doth drive the souls of men

      To seek true spirit-heights within themselves

      Set their own measure, their own order make.

      Creation were not possible for man

      If others wished to claim what he had made.

      The song that trills from out the linnet’s throat

      Sufficeth for itself; and so doth man

      Find his reward, when in his fashioning work

      He doth experience creative joy.

      (Lightning and thunder.)

      Spirit:

      It is not meet to grudge me my reward.

      If ye yourselves cannot repay the debt

      Then tell the woman, who endowed your souls

      With power, that she must pay instead of you.

      (Exit.)

      Capesius:

      He hath departed. Whither turn we now?

      To find our way aright in these new worlds

      Must be, it seems, the first care of our minds.

      Strader:

      To follow confidently the best way,

      That we can find, with sure but cautious tread,

      Methinks should lead us straightway to the goal.

      Capesius:

      Rather should we be silent as to goal.

      That we shall find if we courageously

      Obey the impulse of our inner self,

      Which speaks thus to me: ‘Let Truth be thy guide;

      May it unfold strong powers within thyself

      And mould them with the noblest fashioning

      In all that thou shalt do; then must thy steps

      Attain their destined goal, nor go astray.’

      Strader:

      Yet from the outset it were best our steps

      Should not lack consciousness of their true goal,

      If we would be of service unto men

      And give them happiness. He, who would serve

      Himself alone, doth follow his own heart;

      But he, who wills to serve his neighbour best,

      Must surely know his life’s necessities.

      (The Other Maria, also in soul-form, emerges from the rocks, covered with precious stones.)

      But see! What wondrous being’s this? It seems

      As though the rock itself did give it birth.

      From what world-depths do such strange forms arise?

      The Other Maria:

      I wrest my way through solid rock, and fain

      Would clothe in human speech its very will;

      I sense earth’s essence and with human brains

      I fain would think the thoughts of Earth herself.

      I breathe the purest airs of life, and shape

      The powers of air to feel as doth mankind.

      Strader:

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