Collected Works (Vol. I)

232 TANNHAUSER Clothed in the Christ! Ah! Triumphed He at last? Nay, not in death! again ! Alas! Alas! The slave—He rose VENUS, Alas indeed, my knight! We love not! Being both enamoured of Just the one thing that is impossible. But in this carnal strife the Intimate Achieves for one snatched swiftness. me, love! Kiss TANNHAUSER. Ah, but the waking! As [ sink to sleep >illowed in nuptial arms —so fresh and cool— (Yet in their veins I know the fire that runs Racing and maddening from the crown of flame, The monolithic core of mystical Red fury that is called a woman’s heart) Sinking, I say, from the supreme embrace, The Good-night kisses; sinking into sleep-— What dreams betoken the dread solitude? VENUS. What dreams? Ah, dreamest not of me, my knight ? Of vast caresses that include all worlds? Of transmutation into molten steel Fusing with my intolerable gold In the red crucible of alchemy, That is—of clay? TANNHAUSER. I dream of no such thing. But of Thy likeness have I often seen The vast presentment—formless, palpable, Breathing. Not breathing as we use the word, When life and spirit mingle in one breath, Slay passion in one kiss—breathing, I say, Differently from Thee! VENUS. Explain, explain ! TANNHAUSER. As if were kindled into gold and fire The East ! VENUS. The East ! TANNHAUSER. As ifa flowerless moss Suddenly broke in passionate primroses !! VENUS. Violets, violets ! TANNHAUSER. Or as if a man Lay in the fairest garden of the world, In the beginning: and grew suddenly A living soul at that caressing wind ! VENUS. A living soul ! TANNHAUSER. So is Thy shade to me When sleep takes shape. VENUS. She is mine enemy. IIate her, O hate her, she will slay thy soul ! TANNHAUSER. And is my soul not slain within me now? Yet, I do hate her—in these waking hours. But in my sleep she grows upon the sense, A solitary lotus that pales forth In the wide seas of space and separateness. That radiance!— Amber-scented voice of light, Calling my name, ever, ever calling— 1 Taken as symbols of bright and open joys: violets as soft and sombre.