Tannhäuser

The song that soars, and reads the starry runes, And swoons ! None but the dead can tune the lyre of love ! Come, love, thy body serpentine and bright ! What love is this, the heart of sombre hght. Impossible, and therefore infinite ? Sheer height ! None but the dead can twine the limbs of love. Come, love ! My body in thy passion weeps Tears keen as dewfall's, salter than the deep's. My bosom ! How its fortress wakes, and leaps, And sleeps ! None but the dead can sleep the sleep of love ! Come, love, caress me with endearing eyes ! Light the long rapture that nor fades nor flies ! Love laughs and lingers, frenzies, stabs, and sighs. And dies ! None but the dead can know the worth of love ! [ Tannhduser sleeps. Venus. Sleep on, poor fool, and in thy sleep forlorn Defy the very beauty that thou seekest ! Now is the solemn portal of the dusk Lifted ; and in the gleaming silver-gray, 48