Collected Works (Vol. I)

TANNHAUSER From jewelled eyes and lips in passion curled ? > O sister and O serpent and O mate, Strike the red fang of hate . Steady and strong, persistent to the heart ! So shall this song be made more ter- rible With the soul-mastering spell, Choke, stagger, know the Evil, Beauty’s counterpart ! Whose long-drawn curse runs venom in my veins ? What dragon spouse consumes me with her breath? What passionate hatred, what infernal pains, Mixed with thy being in the womb of Death? Blistering fire runs, Scorching, terrific suns, Through body and soul in this abominable Marriage of demon power Subtle and strong and sour, A draught of ichor of the veins of Hell! Curses leap leprous, epicene, unclean, The soul of the Obscene Incarnate in the spirit: and above Hangs Sin, vast vampire, the corrupt, that swings Her unredeeming wings Over the world, and flaps for lust of Death —and Love! VENUS. This man was drained of music! Five new songs Chase the three ancient to oblivion! Oh! Love is grown fury! TANNHAUSER. Kall me! VENUS. In the kiss. [TANNHAUSER Sleeps, ACT III. For Love is lord of truth and loyalty, Lifting himself out of the lowly dust On golden piumes up to the purest sky, Above the reach of loathly sinful lust, Whose base affect through cowardly distrust Of his weak wings dare not to heaven fly, But like a moldwarp in the earth doth lie. His’ dunghill thoughts, which do themselves enure To dirty dross, no higher dare aspire, Nor can his feeble earthly eyes endure The flaming light of that celestial fire Which kindleth love in generous desire, And makes him mount above the native might Of heavy earth, up to the heaven's height. SPENSER, Hymn in Honour of Love. Ln Venusberg: changing afterward to a woodland crossiway. VENUS. GONE to his Goddess! the poor worm’s asleep. And yet—TI cannot follow him. Not even Into the dreamland that these mortals use. There, I am barred. The flaming sword of Light Is set against me, and new pangs consume This nest of scorpions where my heart once was. Yet to my fearful task of hate I set No faltering bosom. I will have this man, His life, his strength ; and live a little more. Life—shall I ever reach the splendid sword Of womanhood, and gird it, gain my will, A human soul, and from that altitude Renew the terrible war against the Gods? I have called Chronos the devouring God My father—shall his desolating reign Never return? Ay me! this heart of hate, Loathing the man, takes comfort in the beast, And gloats on the new garbage for an hour. So, Sin, embrace me! Watch; he moves again, Transfigured by the dream: slow rapture steals Over his face. _ bring Mere godhead could not