Tannhäuser

Draw into nought All life, death, hatred, love : All self concentred in the sole desire— Hear thou the Voice of Fire ! This hope was Zoroaster's —this is mine ! Not one but many splendours hath the Shrine : Not one but many paths approach the gate That guards the Adytum, fortifying Fate ! Mine was, by weariness of blood and brain, Mere bitter fruit of pain Sought in the darkness of an harlot's bed, To make me as one dead : To loose the girders of the soul, and gain Breathing and life for the Intelligible ; Find death, yet find it living. Deep as Hell I plunged the soul ; by all blind Heaven unbound The spirit, freed, pierced through the maze profound, And knew Itself, an eagle for a dove. So in one man the height and deep of love Joined, in two states alternate (even so Are life and death)—shall one unite the two, My long impulsive strife ? Did I find life ? The real life—to know The ways of God. Alas ! I never knew. Q 121